Fear
by in.the.palm.of.your.hand
Summary: AU Halloween has arrived, and Hermione pays Harry a visit. What was supposed to be a joyful meeting quickly turns into a scene straight from a horror flick.


**Fear**

**Tamar-Shakira**

The cold autumn air filled her lungs, as Hermione walked through the snow. She'd left her jacket at home – she did wear a scarf – not knowing why. She'd probably have a cold tomorrow, but she didn't care, even if it was Halloween tonight. She hated her life at the moment. She cried at least twice a day. School was suffocating. Her school was too small for the amount of students, so they had had to extent. She had to cycle almost every break and then eat hastily during class. And then the amount of homework … she was drowning in it! Of course every one had homework, but she also had the homework of the extra subjects. And she also had sprained her wrist. Conclusion: it couldn't get any worse. Even her best friend, Harry, couldn't cheer her up. He'd tried several times by, for example, making a joke. And she'd smile, but a couple of minutes later she would be down again.

She looked around to see where her feet had gotten her. Ah, yes, she recognized the house in front of her. The snowy roof sparkled in the moonlight, as did the garden with its many bushes and plants. The occupants had put four glowing pumpkins in front of the house, two on each side of the door. She laughed at their sight. It was really something for Harry's parents to cut the pumpkins in very happy faces. Not scary at all. Her eyes wandered from the orange happiness to the large tree that stood in the garden, being mighty, since it was the largest tree in the whole street. The tree made the house stand out from the other houses. It made her mind traveled to the past, in which Harry and she played in the garden, made a tree house and spied on other people, who walked by. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. They would pretend that they were married and that they had their own home. Harry would go away to work and come back a couple of minutes later with something 'that he'd brought from work.' A pen, a cup of lemonade or something silly like a chewing gum.

Suddenly she felt a rush along her arm. Looking around quickly she saw a little girl with long, sleazy black hair run away, probably seven or eight years old. Her clothes were filthy and torn. Strange, Hermione thought, that a girl of that age is allowed to walk alone outside this time of night. Surely _her_ parents would never let her little sister out alone, not even during daytime, when the sun was shining brightly. She turned and looked at where the girl had come from, also checking the pavement. There in big red letters stood the word 'Fear.'

What a way to make people scared. Ridiculous. Probably the reason why the girl ran, too.

Deciding that she'd stood outside long enough – she 'd really began to shiver, from the cold? Or from the vague word? – Hermione slowly walked up to the front door. Taking another glimpse at the tree, she turned around and pushed the doorbell. That was another special thing about the family. Their doorbell tune. It was a whole melody, with higher and lower notes. Making every one, except for Hermione at the moment, smile.

She saw a shim getting bigger through the opaque glass of the door. A rustle of keys could be heard and the lock clicked open. And there he was. Her best friend in the whole wide world. His messy, black hair was a bit too long and hung in his eyes, but she thought that it was rather cute. She could see by the look on his face that he was happy to find her waiting on his doorstep. His bright green eyes shone with joy. She smiled up at him.

"Hi," she whispered. Her breath forming a cloud and whitening her view for a second or two.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" he asked, waving his hands to invite her in and taking her scarf to hang it on the coat rack, which was surprisingly empty. Were his parents gone tonight?

"I don't know … went for a walk, I guess," she said, welcoming the warmth of the house.

He hummed and guided her to the living room. "You look extremely cold. Why didn't you wear a jacket? Let me make you a hot chocolate. That'll warm you up."

Hermione nodded unconsciously. She was looking around the living room, taking in the Halloween ornaments. Not that there were much, but the few that they had put up were witty. For example: on the mantelpiece there was a little puppet, pretending to be eaten by a giant and evil pumpkin. And there was a tiny pumpkin on the table, which had a funny face, too. The room had a large green couch, which matched with the chair in front of the hearth and with the wallpaper – the wallpaper was a tad bit darker green. A large bookcase adorned the left wall. And the right wall was decorated with two paintings. It was quite dark. Only a few lights burned and they gave the room a cozy look. Hermione always felt at home here.

Harry walked up behind her and nudged her back with his elbow. Turning around, Hermione saw that he was struggling with two full cups of hot chocolate. She took one of them and nodded thankfully. She saw that he was wearing a new shirt, but she couldn't see what was pictured on it. It looked like a ink spot, but that couldn't be it, right?

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Harry asked, distracting her from the shirt totally. "Maybe it'll cheer you up. You choose one." He gestured towards the bookcase, where they also kept their DVD's and videos.

Hermione walked up to the bookcase. Every time she came here she was amazed by the amount of books and videos they had. And this time wasn't any different. She picked _The Green Mile_, thinking back if she hadn't already seen it sometime. She was almost sure she hadn't.

When they'd finally seated themselves on the couch and pressed 'play' on the remote control, Hermione's mind wandered again. Harry's parents weren't at home indeed, he'd told her when she had handed him the movie. They'd went out to dinner. There was a new Thai restaurant a few blocks away and they had wanted to try it out, believing that Harry, with his nineteen years, was able to take care of the house. She focused her eyes on the TV screen, where Tom Hanks was talking to Michael Clarke Dungeon and she tried to pay attention to the moving images.

X-X

Harry's kitchen was a mixture of blue and white. On every blue tile you could see a little white horse and on every white tile there was a blue flower. The fridge in the corner was covered in colorful magnets, all had an other shape. The table in the middle of the kitchen was round, its legs carved in beautiful shapes and the surface covered with a bluish cloth. Harry stood by the (white) counter, smearing butter on a slice of bread. He was making sandwiches for them both.

"Not really a happy movie, huh?" he asked, looking at her tearstained face with compassion. Hermione chuckled and wiped her face with the sleeve of her shirt.

"No, not really." He smiled. Rubbing her arms – it had become quite cold in the past few hours – she walked to the window, next to the fridge. The road had become even more white, she never knew it could snow this much in England. The house opposite Harry's one was covered in Christmas lights. Some people really couldn't tell the difference between two holidays. She shook her head and laughed quietly.

"What's so funny? Oh wait, the decoration of the neighbours?"

But she didn't answer. She was distracted. Out of the corner of her eye she saw something move across the lawn. Her eyes shifted and landed on a girl. The same girl she saw earlier this evening. Confused, she took a look at her watch. Eleven thirty.

"How … ?" She really couldn't believe it. The girl was still alone outside and her clothes looked even more ragged than they did before. The girl's head moved and her eyes focused on Hermione.

Hermione turned around quickly and brought a hand to her heart. The feeling that had washed over her when she looked the girl in the eyes had been suffocating, like there was a ribbon wrapped around her chest. Breathing heavily, she said, "Harry, there is a girl in your garden. Maybe we should ask what's wrong or something. Help her. Maybe she's lost or something."

Harry shrugged. "Okay, you go ahead. I want to finish these." He gestured towards his sandwiches and grabbed his knife and fork again.

Hermione nodded – even though he couldn't see it – and walked though the kitchen and to the front door. The handle was as cold as ice when she turned it, but she shrugged it off. She opened the door and a rush of cold wind blew her hair back immediately. Crossing her arms to protect her from the cold, she stepped outside a bit and let her eyes adjust to the dark view. The girl was still there. Hermione could now see that the hem of her dress was wet with snow and she wasn't wearing any shoes. But she didn't look the slightest bit cold. The girl's eyes were blazing and looking directly at Hermione.

"Are … " Hermione cleared her throat, "Are you okay? Can I help you?"

Something flashed in the girl's eyes and suddenly she let out an earsplitting scream. Hermione stumbled back a few steps. Her breath caught in her throat. The girl closed her eyes, reopened them and started running, running at top speed to Hermione. Hermione didn't know how fast she had to get inside of the house. She fell backwards in the hall and quickly closed the door with her foot.

_WHAM_

She quickly leaned her body against the door and locked it, hoping that the girl – or creature? – couldn't come through. Closing her eyes, she listened to the noises outside. She heard a slopping sound against the window. And then … then it was quiet. She took a peek through the mailbox and saw the girl walking away, turning left when she reached the end of the garden. Hermione let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding and stood up shakily. She turned around to face the door and what she saw there shocked her. The word 'fear' was written on the other side of the door, in the same letters as on the pavement earlier this evening.

"H-Harry?" Hermione yelled, still trying to catch her breath and stumbling back against the wall.

"HARRY?" No answer.

Oh no, Hermione thought, Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

She looked in the living room if he was there. He wasn't. There was something peculiar about the living room, but she couldn't put a finger on it. She ran to the kitchen and he wasn't there either. The sandwiches were gone and the counter was cleaned up. Then it hit her. There was something peculiar about the kitchen, too. It was different. The whole freaking thing was different. Gone were the blue and white tiles, gone was the round table. There were yellow tiles now and the table had the form of a triangle and its legs were just straight. No beautiful carvings.

Hermione ran back to the living room. Harry's furniture had been replaced by chairs and laced cloths. Like it was the year 1920 instead of 2005. She quickly ascended the stair and saw that everything had changed there, too. Her heart was beating out of her ribcage. This isn't normal, she thought. This just isn't normal.

She was downstairs in the hall again, frantically searching for something to distract her. She was scared beyond reason. Harry was gone and the house had changed enormously. Checking the garden one more time through the mailbox, she decided that she had to go home. Her watch said that it was nine forty-five. She opened the door and braced herself for anything that could attack her, but nothing did. Hermione started running. She came at the end of the street and thought about which way she had to go to get home. She should've called. She should've called her parents to say that she was on her way. So that they could prepare themselves, that they knew that she was alone on the street now. Not taking the risk of using a phone booth, she quickly ran to the library across the road. It was open 24/7 anyway.

Praising the light in the hall, she quickly ran to the counter. 'I'll be right back,' the plate on the desk said. There was no one to be seen. Not that she expected to see anyone except for the librarian at this time of night, but still it didn't feel right. Deciding that she'd been waiting long enough – she felt like ten minutes had gone by already – she walked behind the desk and picked up the phone. Shakily, she typed her phone number. Please pick up the phone, she thought, please pick up the phone!

After ten dial tones she hung up and tried again.

_Ring. Ring._ Pick up! _Ring. Ring._

She thrust the ear piece on the phone set and rubbed her arms. Checking her watch again, she saw that it now said a quarter past six. Staring at her watch intently, she noticed what was so weird about the hourwork. It was going backwards. The hand was steadily turning left instead of right. There must be something wrong with her watch. Where was there a clock in the library? The one she knew of was on the second floor, above the Children's Books section. She hurried up the stairs and found the clock easily.

Ten to five.

The next clock was on the third floor, next to the History section. Finding that one too, she saw, eleven past four. Every clock was going backwards! Grabbing her head to contain all the new information, Hermione sat down on the nearest chair.

She went over all that had happened tonight. The girl outside, 'fear' on the pavement, the movie, the sandwiches, the same girl in the garden, her torn dress, the weird feeling when she looked at her, Harry staying behind and finishing the sandwiches, the attack, the changes in the furniture and everything, the disappearing of Harry, the clocks, the librarian that wasn't there, her parents, everything.

Hermione looked up. Books always gave her a relaxing feeling. Why not read a children's book? she thought. One that her mother used to read to her. She walked back to the second floor and grabbed the book _The fabulous story of Pipi Long stocking_. Sitting down at the reading table she opened the book. Closing her eyes first for a second, she took a deep breath and started to read the first page. The words made her calm and relaxed. She remembered that when she was young and that when she was scared, her mother used to read this book to her and everything would be alright. Good old times.

When Hermione turned the page, her breath caught in her throat for the second time. Fear. That was the word that stood out brightly on the page. Red against white. Next page: fear. The page after that: fear. Every page bared the word fear. It looked like it had been written in blood. She touched 'fear' on the twenty-second page and looked at her fingers, they were red. Feeling very nauseated, she put the book away quickly and grabbed another children's book. The first page was normal, but the pages after that one all contained the word fear. The next book was the same. The book after that, too.

Hermione descended the stairs in a hurried pace. The library had grown cold, it was freezing. Grabbing the phone again – the librarian still wasn't back – she dialed the number of her parents house. This time there was an answer.

"Mom? Dad? Please pick me up. I'm at the library and – "

A heavy and raw voice filled her ear. "Hermione," it grunted. Hermione took a gulp of air.

"Hermione … fear. Fear Hermione. Hermione."

When it also suddenly got darker, she just couldn't take it anymore and she started yelling.

"Stop!" she yelled through the earpiece. "STOP IT! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY PARENTS? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HARRY? WHY DO YOU KEEP FOLLOWING ME?"

And then she just screamed. Hard and long.

X-X

Hermione sat up quickly, her eyes adjusting to the bright light of the fire in hearth. Her throat was sore from screaming. She looked beside her and there was Harry, eyeing her with a worried expression on his face.

"Are you alright?" he asked, fingering her forehead to see if she got a fever. "You're not warm," he concluded. Hermione didn't say anything, she just gave him a bone crushing hug.

"You're alright," she whispered. "You're not gone."

Harry chuckled slightly. "You had a nightmare," he said, peeling her off him and pushing her back on the couch. "You were shaking all over. You fell asleep during the movie. Do you want to talk to me about your dream?"

Hermione shook her head. She looked at his shirt and remembered that it was new. She got distracted earlier this evening, so she hadn't seen what it really said. She touched the embroidered picture, looking at it in a confused way.

"What?" he asked, laughing. "Something wrong with my shirt?"

"No ... " she whispered. "It's just ... just ... never mind."

But it did mind. Wasn't this over yet?

His shirt showed the word 'fear' and below that a girl with red, flashing eyes.

**THE END**

7


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